A Debt Among Rogues
by SpartAl412
Summary: The city of Azalea has come under siege by an army of Chaos, dedicated to the Blood God but the pious forces of the Ordo Hereticus and its Chamber Militant, the Sisters of Battle stand ready to defend the city. Unknown to the two battling armies though, a third group has its own, mysterious agenda to complete.


My eyes remained closed, behind glassteel Blast Goggles as I took deep breaths of air which were filtered by the Respirator that covered my nose and mouth. I barely feel the weight of the finely wrought Armored Bodyglove that covers me along with the black Night Cloak which would be most needed for concealment. With slow breaths inhaling and exhaling, I try to calm myself for beneath my breast, my heart beats like a drum.

After so many years, I can hardly believe that this day had come. Never had I thought that it was possible but by some strange twist of fate, I have been given the opportunity to right a great wrong. But what if I failed? I grimly think which sends twisting knots into my stomach as doubt begins to seep into my mind.

It would all be for nothing, one huge cosmic joke that would be far from surprising for the universe seemed to enjoy having some sick sense of humor. I try to push these thoughts out of my mind for the coming mission requires that I need to keep a cool head for anything less would mean certain death and the possibility of something far worse. It is then that I feel a hand touch my own and my eyes open to the world around me.

A spacious transport that was decorated with many opulent luxuries such as soft cushions, a cabinet filled with exotic crystalline containers and a hookah-like device were but some of the things which adorned the interior of the vehicle which I traveled in. Soft mists of pink vapor fill the air and had I not been wearing the Respirator mask, then I would likely be in the throes of some narcotic filled ecstasy. I then turn my head to the one I traveled with, the one who owned this transport, the one who made this opportunity a possible and now my employer.

'Are you all right child?' asked the haughty, alien creature whose melodious voice was both regal and caring, whose poise was dignified and commanding. With pale skin, almond shaped eyes and lustrous blood red hair, I feel the full gaze of the Corsair Prince, Eorlianeth Ansgar and for a moment it seems, that he is peering into my very soul.

'I am fine, really' I reply a bit nervously for despite being an Eldar, a xeno creature I should have hated had I ever been loyal to that corpse on a throne in the first place, I could not help but feel awed by the majesty of his presence which was enhanced by his heavy golden armor that was decorated with bright gems and various other flashy but impractical baubles.

'Although I appreciate your participation in this endeavor' added the alien with a kindly tone 'you really do not take part in this for I am quite capable of accomplishing this on my own.'

'Don't worry about me' I then say with as much confidence as possible. 'I can… I must do this.'

'As you wish then' nodded the Eorlianeth with a mixture of sympathy and approval as he gently tightens his grip on my hand. 'But please do be careful and do not do anything foolish.'

'I promise to be careful' was my reply but still I felt that that hint of fear and doubt as we came closer to the objective.

* * *

Roaring a prayer to the God-Emperor of Mankind, Lord Inquisitor Klovis Damoth of the Ordo Hereticus, pressed the firing trigger of his Inferno Pistol and he burned a gaping hole in the chest of a traitor Marine. Protected by a blessed suit of the Ignatus-pattern power armor (which lacked the helmet) along with a Rosarius, the Inqusitor and his retinue were a gleaming beacon of purity amidst a sea of filth and darkness. Another blood crazed heretic dressed in the tattered remnants of a Guardsman's uniform came at Klovis with a pair of rusty combat knives and the Witch Hunter effortlessly decapitated the traitor with a single sweep of his Sanctified Power Sword.

For almost a whole Terran week, the Lord Inquisitor and his personal retinue along with an entire regiment of Inquisitorial Storm Troopers had been defending the capital city of Azalea, a Shrine World, from an invading army of Chaos fanatics who worshipped the Blood God. It greatly helped that they were not alone of course for the Chamber Militant of the Ordo Hereticus, the Adepta Sororitas, the Sisters of Battle from the Order of the Bloody Rose had fought to defend the holy city. With Bolter, Flamers and Meltas, they eagerly engaged the Traitor Forces who mostly fought with close combat weapons.

With faith and courage, the combined forces of the Ordo Hereticus, the Ecclesiarchy and the PDF who still remained loyal had been able to hold the line against the bloody tide. Crusaders armed with Suppresion Shields and Power Swords formed an impenetrable phalanx while Storm Troopers armed with advanced energy weapons vaporized all who stood against. It was all so glorious, thought the Inquisitor who deeply preferred the open confrontation of war over skulking about and hunting heretical cults.

Underneath a statue of Ferrocrete which depicted the God Emperor himself, they made their stand against the Chaos army. Not far away from the Inquisitor and his retinue were the trenches which had originally been dug by the PDF but were now being used by the Sisters of Battle to deliver a punishing volley of fire. Bolter rounds mowed down entire mobs of heretics while those who came too close were incinerated with Melta and Flamers.

The tortured sky above which became pregnant with warp energy was also now a warzone as Chaos Raptors and Daemonic Furies engaged in aerial battles with Sororitas Seraphim. Having fought in many battles over the years, Inquisitor Klovis knew when forces were evenly matched. It was in times like this that the balance of power was carefully maintained and the slightest of error on either side was all that stood in the path of victory or defeat.

Having already sworn to the Emperor that he would not fail, the Lord Inquisitor had no intention of failing his divine liege.

* * *

'Remember to stay close to me child' says Eorlianeth in reminder as I help him put on a pair of Eldar weapons which resemble the claws of a scorpion but it gleamed with a powerfield and it also included forearm mounted guns. His face is already concealed behind a tall helmet of midnight black with red eye lenses and a pair of gun barrels on the sides of the headgear. There are also two alien guns protruding from the shell-like device upon his back, each one glowed with a bright orange light.

In my own hands, I carry an alien gun called a "Pulse Carbine", provided by Eorlianeth which was some sort of plasma weapon that did not overheat and was more like a bolter in terms of stopping power. Hanging by a strap across my chest was a large, Heavy Webber, a non-lethal weapon commonly used by Arbites and bounty hunters to take in targets alive. Soon the air around begins to shimmer with ghostly lights as the strange, shell-like device on the back of the Eldar and in one single moment, we are cast into that place where no mortal being should rightly be before materializing back in the mortal plane.

A moment of disorientation passes as I look about with confusion for in one second, we were aboard the alien skimmer vehicle called a Wave Serpent and the next; we are in the ruins of a city. I see that the sky of this world is filled with dark red clouds which remind me of blood and bolts of multi-colored lightning streak across it. At the edge of my hearing, I swear that I can hear voices, whispering promises and threats of violence, bloodshed and brutality.

'Come, we must not tarry' whispers Eorlianeth who carries some form of Eldar holo-device which causes the air around us to distort.

I try to move as quietly as possible, a task made somewhat easier by the armor which I wear but the alien pirate lord travels with a degree of silence that should be outright impossible due to his own armor. The very ground trembles as distant explosions rip across the city and before long, we find the grisly signs of fighting. Pieces of human bodies fill an alleyway, smearing the walls and the ground with gore, gristle and meat, many of which bore the clear signs of having been slain by bolter shells.

Although I have seen death in the past, the sight of such butchery almost makes me nauseous for in my time on the run, I had run into more than few grisly scenes. I remembered that one stint on Jerlas where I had been employed by a local organized crime boss had a habit of personally having those who displeased him dumped feet first into the machines used to transform entire grox carcasses into ground meat before being sold to street vendors. There was also that close call I had with a group of Redemptionists who enjoyed "purifying" people by sticking them in metal cages which would be super-heated so that their sins could be purged.

Through bitter experience, I had learned that the galaxy was full of sick bastards such as "nobles" who liked to hunt folks of common birth for sport, the mad followers of the Ruinous Powers who just loved to flay people and use their victims as decorations and religious fanatics who got their kicks out of burning people alive. Some at least were honest about being a bunch of fethed up psychopaths but the worst in my opinion were those who claimed to be doing it for a good cause. By the end of today at least, we could probably at least make the galaxy a bit better by getting rid of some of those crazies.

For several minutes, we stick to the shadows, avoiding passing patrols of flak armored troops who looked like common PDF troopers, bands of wild eyed, self flagellating fanatics. The most dangerous of all though were the small groups of red power armored women who carried boltguns, Sisters of Battle, some of whom also travelled with boxy vehicles which were patterned after the Rhino class of APC. In the shadows, we wait for the patrols to pass, avoiding any unwanted attention for it was just the two of and two entire armies who were more than happy to murder each other.

If we were lucky, then we could get by this without any major incidents but it was something which I doubted for there was never was such a thing as a milk run.

* * *

Roaring praises in the name of Khorne, Varrag the Agonist, once an Aspiring Champion of the World Eaters Legion and now a Chaos Lord who commanded a Daemonkin Slaughtercult, brought down a heavy chained battle axe of such size that even a Terminator Armored Astartes needed to use both of his hands just to properly wield it. The head of the chain axe slammed into the right shoulder of an armored woman, one of the Sisters of Battle who so blindly followed the False Emperor. Ceramite plates were torn like paper before flesh and bone were also shredded; the cry of agony from the Chaos Lord's target was like music to his ears.

The butchered corpse of the armored woman fell to the bloody ground, joining with that of other followers of the False Emperor who shared the same fate. Near the Chaos Lord was his honor guard of Terminators who, like most warriors in their warband, wielded only close combat weapons. Guided by their berserk rage, their hatred for the followers of the False Emperor and their unrelenting desire for bloodshed, Varrag felt proud to lead them for there was purity in the calling of slaughter.

'Activate Teleporters!' commanded the Chaos Lord and his Terminators obeyed.

The loyalist forces had thought that by digging mere holes like Iron Warriors, they could find shelter from the rage of the Daemonkin. All they accomplished was digging their own graves for the Chaos forces made good use of their Deep Strike capable units such as Warp Talons, Blood Letters and Terminators to teleport behind entrenched positions and begin slaughtering Imperial soldiers. Already, they had cleared out several entrenched positions over the course of the short campaign and still there were many more places where the loyalists hid.

In the blink of an eye, the Chaos Terminators vanished into the warp and they materialized within another position Imperial position but this time, they were met by opponents who were slightly worthier. A band of masked men wearing red robes and tall pointy hoods, screamed praises to False Emperor and they quickly charged the Terminators with close combat weapons and pistol while in their eyes was the familiar madness of fanaticism. Sweeping his Chain Axe to the side, the Chaos Lord cut a loyalist in half before decapitating another one with a return sweep.

A river of blood flowed as the Chaos Terminators slaughtered several mortals, they laughed and roared in triumph for each death was another offering to Khorne. Mere swords, spears, cudgels and auto weapons were practically useless against their heavy armor; all they succeeded in doing was to scratch the crimson paint. On the HUD of the Chaos Lord's helmet, he saw the vital sign of one of his honor guard suddenly flat line and he looked to where the warrior had fallen.

Standing over the fallen body of a Terminator was another of the masked, red robed men but this one wore a crown which burned with fire and in his hands, he carried a bloody Eviscerator which was covered religious paraphernalia. The Chaos Lord then heard the distinct roars of more Eviscerators and one of his honor guard quickly opened up a link which caused a small screen to appear on the side of his helmet's HUD. A band of loyalist warrior women dressed in scraps of clothing and wielding two handed chainswords were rushing towards the group of Terminators who still battled against the few remaining robed men.

'PREPARE TO MEET THE EMPEROR'S JUSTICE, HERETIC SCUM!' roared the fire crowned man

'I WILL OFFER YOU SKULL TO KHORNE! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!' replied Varrag the Agonist who always welcomed the chance of a challenging foe.

* * *

A chill runs down my spine as we looked to the entrenched dugout where several red armored Adepta Sororitas wielding boltguns lay down a murderous barrage. Having taken cover in the bombed out ruins of a building that had probably once been a two-story shop, Eorlianeth who is peering through a broken window from the second floor, remains in silent observance. We continue to watch the band of bolter armed women who carry on with pouring explosive ordnance towards some distant target and then suddenly, we hear the loud, high-pitched screams as giants also clad in red armor, descend from wing of fire.

Boltguns were raised to meet this new threat but it is already too late for many of the Battle Sisters are cut down by the guns of the Jump Pack equipped Chaos Marines, Raptors I believe they are called whose boots end in sharp talons and in their right hands are whirring chainswords. With morbid fascination, I watch as the Daemon-worshipping madmen, rip and tear the Sororitas warriors who mostly used combat knives or bayonets for close quarters. A few of the Battle Sisters manage to pull off a lucky shot here and there, felling a couple of the Raptors but in the close quarters which they fought, the Chaos followers had the advantage.

'Get ready' whispers Eorlianeth with a hint of eagerness in his tone and I see the teleportation device on his back begin to softly hum with energy. In a blink of an eye, the Eldar disappears with a sharp flash of light and he rematerializes among the battling Chaos Marines and Adepta Sororitas. With twin thrusts of his claws to the sides, he impales one Raptor in the chest, exactly over where a human being's heart would be while the other slams into the faceplate of another Chaos Marine and crumpling the fearsome helmet.

In less than a heartbeat, the Corsair Prince is on the move towards another target, his outline blurring once more. Traveling with a speed that was almost impossible to follow, he drives his powered claws into the armored bodies of Marines and Sororitas with enough strength to crush ceramite plates. Muttering a curse, I draw the Pulse Carbine and begin taking aim at anything wearing red.

One Battle Sister goes down as a plasma round hits her exposed head while a Chaos Marine whose back was facing me suddenly explodes as a lucky pair of plasma shots directly hits his jump pack. Eorlianeth continues to weave among them, a blurry figure that efficiently kills with either his claws or the forearm mounted guns which fired bright lances of melta energy.

The skirmish lasts for only a few minutes before the before it is only the Corsair Prince who is the only to remain standing. Ejecting the spent alien magazine I holster one pulse pistol and go about reloading one before doing the same with the other. Whichever xenos species decided to make these Pulse things, certainly knew what they are doing for the despite being only slightly lighter than a boltgun, it did not have the murderous recoil of the weapon and there was some sort of attachment to it which gave it an equal amount of range.

Eorlianeth then gestures for me to come towards him and I quickly make my way out of the ruined shop, going down from the second floor and later through the front door. At the dugout, the Corsair Prince sets down a small a device, which was composed of a metallic rod which ended with a bright crystalline gem and was supported by three thin legs, as I came closer, I heard the device begin to create a soft hum.

'A relocation matrix beacon' explained Eorlianeth. 'Under most circumstances, we Eldar use the Webway Gates to transport entire war camps, but such would be a tad bit unnecessary for our purpose here'.

'Right, so are we going now?' I ask a bit impatiently.

'Of course' nods the Corsair Prince 'it would be most improper to keep the guest of honor waiting.'

* * *

The Eviscerator blade slammed into the daemon-faced pauldron of the Chaos Lord, causing sparks to fly as the mechanized teeth sliced into the warp-infused adamantite which would not hold for long against the mighty weapon. A growl of escaped the lips of the Chaos Lord who swiftly thrust his gauntleted left hand forward and he grabbed the fire crowned priest by the throat. Tightening his grip upon the fire crowned and choking the life out of him, Varrag quickly delivered an overhead chop that landed on his foe's head and the teeth of the Chain Axe began to dig in.

By the time the Chaos Lord let go of the fire crowned man, all that had been left was a bloody corpse that had been butchered from skull to gut. Varrag then turned his attention to the battle between his honor guard and the Eviscerator armed women where chainblades clashed in showers of sparks as the scantily clad warrior women continued to battle against the Terminators of whom were much slower due to their armor but were certainly far more durable than their opponents whose only advantage was speed. A burning rage then fell upon the Chaos Lord who began to feel a familiar presence within his very soul and he allowed it to overcome him.

Raising his bloody chainaxe high he roared dark words in the tongue of Daemonkind and the blood that spattered the ground began to bubble with unholy energy. Soon, several strong, clawed hands clutching fiery blades emerged from the puddles of gore, heralding the arrival of many Bloodletters. Futilely, some of the warrior women attempted to strike down the materializing Daemons as they rose up from the earth but the Daemonic foot soldiers of the Blood God who simply were too many, soon joined the fray.

A brief but furious melee followed where many of the Daemons along with two more Terminators had fallen but of their foes, none survived. Soon, the followers of the Blood God lifted several severed heads to the air, offering more skulls to honor Khorne. Their celebration was short-lived however for a nearby building had been demolished by artillery fire, sending up clouds of dust while the sound of gunfire still rang out in the distance.

There was still much killing to do and it would be a sin against Khorne to leave no blood spilled. Ordering his remaining honor guard to activate their teleporters again, the Terminators soon disappeared again into the Warp.

* * *

Another corrupted Guardsman died before the power sword of Klovis who had delivered a decapitating sweep and he fired a melta blast at another group of cultists, sending two more towards eternal damnation. Traitor Space Marines, Heretic Cultists, Renegade Guardsmen and Daemons, all were purged by the hand of the Witch Hunter whose righteous fury spelled doom to the unclean. The Inquisitor's retinue remained unbroken as they slowly battered their way past the ranks of the damned with a slow and methodical approach.

Like an avalanche of steel and flesh, the Chaotic horde continued to assail the Imperial defenders and already, there had been many places where fighting had devolved into close quarter brawls. Confident that both the Adepta Sororitas and the Frateris Militia would persevere, the Inquisitor ordered for his group to continue their advance. With perfect precision, they maintained their formation, the Crusader Phalanx remained unbroken as the Storm Troopers continued to lay down a deadly barrage, sending more heretic screaming into the Warp.

'For the Emperor! For Terra!' shouted the Inquisitor Lord whose faith in the Immortal Emperor was so great and so pure that he began to softly glow with a golden light. In the eyes of the Neverborn and to those who could see through Witchsight, the Inquisitor had become a blinding beacon whose very presence was anathema to all daemonkind. But to those who were bound by mortal flesh and blood, all they saw was an enemy champion in need of killing.

Several sudden bright flashes of light appeared before the Inquisitor and his company, revealing a band of Traitor Marine Terminators wielding bloodied close combat weapons. The Arch-Heretic who led this unclean rabble! Was what Klovis Damoth though as he tightened his grip upon his power sword and he raised the blade with the tip pointing towards the most ornately armored surely must have been the Chaos Lord. Mentally giving a vow in the Emperor's name, the Inquisitor Lord promised to destroy this fiend and he would not take a single step back.

* * *

Softly panting after having climbed yet another building, and this time having had to go up six stories, I placed my gloved hands upon the broken railings of a hab-block's rooftop and I try to catch my breath. The building shakes as explosions continue to tear the city apart while the sound of battle fills almost every part of the ground and even the air above which hosts duels between jump packs equipped warriors. The city had become a place of death where madness and destruction lay everywhere, a sight that was depressingly common throughout the galaxy.

Underneath the gaze of a statue, depicting The Emperor, I finally saw our target, the very reason why I had come to this war torn city. Like some heroic figure out of a holo-film, the Inquisitor stood defiant against a horde of Chaos followers, his personal retinue were now engaging in a closer quarters battle against several heavily armored Chaos Marines. Furious volleys of fire continued to be exchanged between the two armies from our position I can see that things were not entirely in favor of the Imperium.

Just as earlier with the Raptors, entire trenches and other defensive positions were being assailed by Chaos forces who had some way of either teleporting, flying or other means of quickly closing the distance. The Imperial forces though still held their ground on many locations while the Chaos ones of whom were mostly composed of "normal" seeming humans and mutants, were attacking in living waves. To descend down into the battlefield would be tantamount to complete suicide for the hordes of Chaos followers had become like a living see of flesh and sinew.

'We are not going to go down there are we?' I nervously ask towards Eorlianeth whose outline remains blurred by the holo-device he is carrying.

'Tempting, but I have planned for this contingency' replies the Corsair Prince who then powers down his claws and he slowly removes the right one. Holding on to the right claw with the left, he then points to the battlefield, his long delicate fingers making the shape of a mock gun and he quietly whispers 'bang'

Dozens of swift moving warheads suddenly fell from the sky; each one detonating among the Chaos horde with bright explosions of energy as dozens blurred aircraft flew overhead. Deadly barrages of more missiles along with volleys of accurate laser, kinetic projectiles called Shurikens and clouds of razor sharp webs which descend towards the ground. The Imperial positions were also being assailed, causing several of the red armored Battle Sisters to fire bolt weapons in the air. Elsewhere in the city, more detonations occur, driving the death toll to even greater heights, and in all of this, Eorlianeth reveled in it.

Having put back his right claw weapon, the Corsair Prince was waving his arms about like a conductor for an orchestra but instead of music, he directed the destruction while softly humming an alien tune. In mere seconds, hundreds of lives were instantly snuffed out by the intense bombardments and strafing runs, yet there was one spot which had barely been touched by the aircraft. Many of the Inquisitor's company along with the Chaos Marines they were battling had been completely obliterated by the air strikes and those few survivors were still busy fighting one another.

'And now to make our grand appearance' quietly says Eorlianeth who activates his teleportation device again.

* * *

A cloud of dust and grit partially obscures the vision of Varrag the Agonist who feels his own agony for several of the loyalists had managed to strike him with power swords and powerful ranged weaponry. It was a testament to his iron will and his enhanced physiology as an Astartes that he still remained standing. Many of his honor guard now lay dead; he had seen their destruction during the course of the artillery strike which had slain both, his own and the Imperial forces.

Barely giving it any thought and surrendering himself to the berserk fury, he attacked the nearest of the surviving Imperials while shouting the twin war cries of 'Blood for the Blood God and Skulls for the Skull Throne'.

Sweeping his chainaxe left and right, he decapitated one loyalist warrior, sending an arterial spray of blood gushing into the air while burying his axe into another. He was then met by another power armored warrior wielding a gleaming blade and an Inferno Pistol. Even in his enraged state, the Chaos Lord was quick to identify the presence of an enemy leader and he knew that that such a foe's skull would make a fine offering to Khorne.

'HERE IS MY BENEDICTION!' roared Varrag who once more felt the touch of the Blood God and his entire body became wreathed in hellfire. With a loud, earth-trembling charge, the Chaos Lord sprinted towards the loyalist champion with chain axe roaring.

The two champions, met on the on the field of battle, atop a mountain of ruined masonry and surrounded by the dead as aerial strikes continued to raze both their armies. One blazed with the divine light of the God Emperor and the other burned with the unholy fires of rages and bloodlust. So focused were they upon one another that they did not notice the sharp flash of warp-light as two figures suddenly appeared nearby and began opening fire on the survivors of their retinues.

Clouds of Mono-filament wire were fired from one of the interlopers, shredding apart those surviving Storm Troopers and Crusaders who survived the air strikes while the other one fired volleys of bright plasma rounds. The three remaining Chaos Terminators were quick to engage this new threat, two were outright slain by Melta blasts to their faces while the last one who managed to get in up close with power claws, attempted to skewer the swift moving target who suddenly disappeared in a flash of warp-light and before the Chaos Marine knew it, two other power claws slammed into the top of his helmet and reducing his skull into a ruined mush.

Power Sword and Chain Axe met in a furious shower of sparks as the two Lords remained almost equally matched. Both were skilled, consummate warriors whose faith sustained them, both were clad in ceramite plates which were imbued with religious symbols dedicated to their own gods. The battle between the two champions, between two warriors marked by the powers that be, was abruptly interrupted by another pair of Melta blasts which directly struck Varrag in the back and in a single instant, the Chaos Lord had exploded in a cloud of red mist within his own Terminator Armor.

Inquisitor Lord Klovis had also been struck by the twin melta blasts, his already weakened Rosarius which had been protecting him for days from enemy attacks finally collapsed while taking the brunt of the super heated rays. The golden light that blazed within him began to dissipate as his right arm had been vaporized from shoulder to elbow and while his left which had been raised towards the now deceased Chaos Lord to pull off a Melta shot had been completely obliterated. He was suddenly then struck down by a heavy masses of sticky filament which he immediately recognized as of being from a Webber and briefly did the Inquisitor see the black cloaked figure who ran up to him and delivered a sharp kick to his unarmored.

The kick was followed up by more until the Inquisitor Lord was beaten into unconsciousness and even then, his attacker did not relent until finally being stopped by the other assailant.

* * *

'That is enough' quietly says Eorlianeth Ansgar who places a clawed hand over the shoulder of his newest underling whose body trembles with rage towards the injured figure trapped by the sticky webs. 'Remember why you are here' adds the Corsair Prince who then turns away and heads off towards the great statue of the Mon'keigh Emperor.

Underneath his helmet, he grins towards the grim-faced statue while carefully reaching for another relocation matrix beacon attached to his belt. Despite wearing Scorpion Claws which had been modified to instead carry Fusion Pistols rather than Shuriken ones, he deftly removed the thin device which extended it three legs and crystalline beacon. 'A gift' he says to the statue while continuing to smile beneath his helmet as he sets down the beacon which softly hums in activation.

The Corsair Prince then returns to his underling and he picks up the gauntleted hand which still holds on to a power sword and gives a slight nod before activating the Warp Generator upon his back which would allow entire groups of warriors to be teleported. In a blink of an eye, the three last living beings beneath the Emperor's gaze disappears, leaving behind only the dead and the humming beacon. After a few moments, an ivory pedestal made from Wraithbone materializes next to the beacon and upon it is a fragile glass sphere.

Cracks begin to appear along the smooth surface of the sphere which contains the unstable essence of warp energy. Around the city, hidden beacons left behind by covert teams of Corsairs, also have pedestals containing fragile glass spheres materialize next to them. In mere seconds, the entire city of Azalea which had become a warzone between the Imperium and the Forces of Chaos, was immediately engulfed in dozens of massive, Distort Singularities.

The Warp itself begins to scream along with every living soul and daemon within the city. By the time the screaming stopped, all that was left of the city was a silent grave.

* * *

Consciousness began to return to Inquisitor Lord Klovis Damoth whose world had become pure agony. Slowly opening his eyes, he found himself to be in an enclosed space, the wall of which were made from some unknown material with organic patterns to it and there was a bright white light above him. Standing in front of the Inquisitor were two figures, one was clearly human wearing an armored bodyglove, a night cloak, blast goggles and a respirator mask while the other who immediately drew his attentions, was a slender, golden armored xenos.

'Witch!' hissed the Inquisitor who instantly recognized the second figure as of being one of the devious Eldar and he tried to get up but immediately, he found himself to be bound by strong chains which tied him to a metal chair. He also realized that his Ignatus Power Armor had been stripped off of him, leaving the Inquisitor in a bodysuit worn under the blessed ceramite.

'He should be the least of your worries' coldly says the black clad figure in a lilting, sing-song accent whose arms remain crossed and next to the heretic is a promethium fuel container.

'Release me, blasphemer!' growls the Inquisitor with barely contained fury 'and lest you further damn your soul!'

'I already am damned, by your hand, Inquisitor' replied the stranger who pulls down the hood of the Night Cloak to reveal a shock of white hair and slowly begins to remove the blast goggles and respirator mask. Klovis soon came face to face with a pale, white haired woman with fine, aristocratic features that were marred by a burn-scar, a brand over the left side of her face which covered the flesh around they eye. 'Do you remember Kalaras? Of the judgment you passed?'

'Is that what this is about?' replied the Inquisitor with contempt and mockery in his voice for indeed he did remember the Hive World, one of many he had led purges in over the course of his career. 'Are you some heretic cultist, a witch who fled the Emperor's justice?'

'Hardly' answered the woman whose voice was filled with cold anger. 'I am Merelen Cyierk, last scion of the Cyierk Dynasty, and my father was Lord Vadran Cyierk, a Rogue Trader who had loyally served the Imperium during the Sabbat Worlds Crusades.'

'You will have to excuse me if I do not recall him heretic' said the Inquisitor 'for I have passed judgment on millions across the Imperium'.

'Then look at my damned face you fething bastard!' angrily shouted the woman who quickly drew a Ripper Pistol and she thrust the barrel of the gun painfully to his forehead. 'Do you remember the pyres around the Cyierk Estate!? The brands you gave to the children of my House!? The ones you decreed would be sterilized and condemned to die in work camps!?'

'If this is some attempt to gain an apology or a confession out of me, heretic then save your insolent breath for you will get none out of me' replied the Inquisitor with defiance while looking this woman in the eye and daring her to pull the trigger.

'I did not bring you here for that, Inquisitor' growled this Cyierk woman who reluctantly pulled away the Ripper from his forehead and she kept it to the side. 'I brought you here because I am going to kill you Inquisitor and I just wanted you to know, who I am before I send you to hell'.

'Do your worst; bitch for the Emperor will welcome my soul at his side' said Inquisitor Klovis in challenge.

'Oh do not be so sure of that, dear Inquisitor' calmly spoke the alien who had silently been watching the exchange. In the hands of the foul Xeno creature, he carried an unholy, device which resembled a jeweled skull with sharp sigils etched upon it. The Inquisitor also notices that tied to the alien's belt was his holy power sword.

The Cyierk woman then holstered her pistol and went to the promethium canister which she picked up and carried it back towards him. She then began to douse the Inquisitor with its foul smelling, alchemical contents until it was emptied and she tossed it aside. She then pressed something on her right palm and a concealed Needle Pistol suddenly appeared in her hand.

'This gun is loaded a special, xeno toxin called Vitae Rebellion' explained the heretic with a cruel and vindictive look on her face. 'It will aggressively alter your body's own fluids into unstable chemical which eventually will make you explode.'

She then pointed the Needle Pistol towards the Inquisitor and she fired it at his left thigh. At first he felt the searing pain as the laser bolt struck him before the needle did and quickly afterwards, he began to feel an indescribable agony which coursed through him. The Inquisitor Lord screamed in pain as the poison coursed through him and it was followed up by a searing heat as the heretic lighted a match and tossed it towards him.

Klovis Damoth, Inquisitor Lord of the Ordo Hereticus, a man who had faithfully served the Imperium and the Inquisition for two hundred years, fighting and purging all manners of foul heretics, daemons and xenos creatures, was now chained to a mere chair and burning alive while a foul alien poison polluted his very being. His body violently altered and convulsed as its own fluids began to war with one another and the flames continued to eat away at his flesh. After about half a minute, the Inquisitor's scorched body began to swell like a balloon and he exploded in a shower of burning, mutated gore and bone which harmlessly crashed into the protective Force Shield worn by alien who still carried the jeweled skull.

No glorious afterlife at the Emperor's side awaited the Inquisitor Lord whose immortal soul was now trapped in an unholy device of xeno craftsmanship.

* * *

'A most cathartic experience is it not?' asked Eorlianeth Ansgar towards me and I could not help but agree. The smell of roasted pork and unclean blood now fills the airlock may as well have been the finest perfume in the galaxy.

'It is' was all I could say for the euphoria I felt, the satisfaction of seeing the Inquisitor burn demise was like an absolution, a weight that had been lifted from my shoulders. The debt of blood which the Inquisitor owed my family had now been paid and for a moment, I hope that they can rest easier.

'I am so glad you feel that way child' smiles the alien lord who then offers me the jeweled skull which he called a "Soul Trap".

'So what now?' I quietly ask towards the Corsair Prince for before we began with this whole thing, we had made… a deal, several actually.

'Well I still have a few loose ends to deal with, down on the planet, but worry not' says the Corsair Prince who continues to favor with that warm smile of his. 'I will think up of some way which you can repay your debt to me but until then, welcome to the crew, Madam Cyierk.'


End file.
